


Brutalmente Fodido

by Bibliotecaria_D



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Oral, Size Kink, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:57:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliotecaria_D/pseuds/Bibliotecaria_D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stealing from the Decepticons carries consequences.  Astrotrain finds that out firsthand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brutalmente Fodido

**Script Title:** Brutalmente Fodido  
**Warning to Audience:** Fic -- so hey, have some sticky sex. Dub-con/rape, fellatio, stuffing.  
**Show Rating:** R/NC-17  
**Continuity Stage:** G1  
**Characters:** Astrotrain, Rumble, Frenzy  
**Theatre Disclaimer:** The theatre doesn’t own the script or actors. Fanfic for an anonymous prompter.  
**Acting Motivation (Prompt):** It started with a kinkmeme prompt (http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=10178782) and turned into a fic for an Anonymous. 

 

**[* * * * *]**

 

Fun fact: Cybertronians could survive after their fuel gauges hit empty. Denying a mech power-saving statis lock after draining his tanks required dredging his body for replacements to keep him online. That kept most systems at their lowest setting, but temporarily existing without energon was possible. Not fun in the slightest, but possible. The body began to cannibalize anything that could be redirected to his fuel processing plant and burnt for energy: lubricant, washer fluid, coolant, liquid hydrogen, silicon, and even solid carbon matter. 

In the long term, keeping a starving mech online required his body to burn itself up to stay alive. Feed him scarce droplets of fuel, and it wouldn’t be lack of energy that killed him. 

Second fun fact: starve a mech in a base at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, keep him out of statis, and he’d be more likely to die of a rust infection than energy deprivation. Every vulnerable point on a mech’s body had a thin coating of oil to protect against damp and salt, but that stripped away as the body literally consumed anything burnable to prevent shutdown. Struts weakened. Armor plating became brittle as the cables and hinges dried to stiff uselessness.

Three days in, Astrotrain’s elbow and ankle joints had the disturbing itch of rust rash beginning in them. That was the least of his problems right now.

He recharged when he could, to conserve energy. It didn’t work very well or for very long. The floor behind the control bridge’s command chair hadn’t been made for comfort, and no matter how far into himself he curled, stray limbs escaped to be tripped over by someone on-shift. Or off-shift. The ones off-shift did it more deliberately than not. The Decepticons could do whatever they wanted to him, and some of them took advantage of that. Even when he managed to sleep through the ‘accidental’ kicks, someone would pull on the chain connecting his neck to the arm of the command chair. A few kicks he could ignore, but cutting off his main air intake and compressing his fuel lines? Not so much.

His armor could absorb a lot of abuse, but after three days of running on fumes and repurposed internal stores, he’d found his limits. Starvation hurt badly, but after a certain point, apparently a mech’s body ratcheted up his nerve sensor network as if to hammer at him that _’Hey, stupid, do something about the empty tanks!’_ His entire body had ached in a low-key hollow way from the initial tank draining, but the switch-over caused the ache to become a constant pulsing pain. He’d already had a decent sent of dents by then, but every new one kicked into him since then hurt worse than any punch he’d taken on the battlefield. With his under-armor shock absorbers drained for the miniscule bursts of energy from burning their fluids, nothing cushioned his circuitry from hard blows. 

Sleeping was the best solution to a bad situation, but not when getting his wing stomped on by Reflector hurt like Omega Supreme had done it. So the shuttle-train groggily stayed awake during shift changes, and if somebody started in on the ‘accidental’ kicks or yanking the chain-leash, he swallowed his pride and hid behind the command chair. It didn’t stop the abuse, but sometimes all his fellow Decepticons wanted to see was a normally intimidating triplechanger cringing before them.

Sometimes they wanted more than that. The worst times were also the best times: the times when mechs took it in their heads to _play_ with him. They tended to reward him if he performed well in their games, but it often didn’t seem worth the price.

Astrotrain woke from a restless doze because of his empty tank twisting painfully. The inbuilt expanders for long-distance space flight allowed his main fuel tank an elastic give meant for use during transformation. He mass-shifted a lot between modes, and a tank for a shuttle was far larger than could be comfortably tucked inside a train. It was even worse in his root mode. That was why he couldn’t transform to his root mode when fully fueled. Or rather, he could, but his fuel tank distended his entire midriff when he did. A fully-expanded tank pushed his middle out into an exceedingly vulnerable bulge where his armor automatically shifted aside because of the pressure from within. 

He hated that. His body had been designed to allow it, but he looked and felt unbalanced whenever he had to do it. He waddled when he walked, unbalanced by the fuel sloshing from side to side, and the few times he’d had to transform from shuttle to bipedal form around Autobots, he’d instantly been on the defensive. A thinly armored fuel tank should just come with a target painted right on it. 

His expandable tank could also collapse inward when empty. That allowed it to wring the last drops of energon from down into his processing plant. Right now, it felt like the sides had glued together and were attempting to feed the lining itself into his processor plant. Urrgh, that hurt.

All because a faint tinge of energy had teased his chemical receptors. He was that starved.

The triplechanger jerked awake, blearily searching for the source before he knew what he was looking for. His optics cleared, heads-up display booting sluggishly. His systems complained about surrendering even that fraction of power. His head turned from side to side blindly as his mouth opened to draw deep draughts of stagnant underwater base air in a search for the teasing scent of energon. Over there!

When his vision cleared, he found himself looking at feet. That was routine, what with the punishment and all. He had enough chain to stand, but he stayed on the floor. Nobody had explicitly said he couldn’t stand up, but Astrotrain wasn’t going to risk pissing off Megatron -- eh-heh, _Lord_ Megatron even more. The past three days had given him great insight into Starscream’s supposed cowardice. Practicality overrode pride: knees to the floor beat fusion cannon to the head any day.

So, feet. Feet were a familiar sight, as was the energon cube. The fact that the feet stood in front of it marked it as out of his reach. Not that it mattered, what with the collar and cuffed wrists, but the rules of his punishment did spell out under what circumstances he was permitted to refuel. The rules said that unless he was granted permission, he couldn’t touch the Decepticons’ energy stockpile. That cube wasn’t for him _unless_ , which was the part that reamed his pride. Decepticons played sick games. 

Starvation had his tanks screaming pleas despite what he wanted. Fuzzy as his thoughts were, Astrotrain rolled halfway to his knees, getting into position to beg before he even recognized whom he would be pleading with. He gave Frenzy and Rumble a particularly dumb look that announced to all and sundry that his head wasn’t in working order yet. Primus, he hurt. His nerve sensor network kept drowning his processors in pain signals. His thoughts swam slowly through them.

The Cassettes didn’t mind that he wasn’t all there. Identical smirks in place, Rumble fussed with the cube while Frenzy sat down against it. Astrotrain’s brain module caught up with current event as the cube peeled open, and the train groaned. The rusty _skreeek-crik-skreeek_ of intakes opening and closing out of pure hunger came from his throat. Empty tanks curled into pained hollows inside him. 

Wait. That wasn’t energon. Not quite, anyway. He knew what that was.

Rumble held up a glittering orb and asked, “Want one?” As if he didn’t know to what lengths Astrotrain would go for it. 

Dark red, the sphere had been packed full of solid material ground down to varying sizes of grit. Scanners and chemical receptors alike caught the tiniest hint of energy wafting from it, and the triplechanger’s intakes spiral wide open. “Yes,” Astrotrain rasped hoarsely, tanks speaking for him. “Yes, please.” He’d be polite for one of those.

They were called cocktail bubbles, but the concept was a leftover from Kaon, back from before the war. Kaon had exported processed energon refined from its mines, and the red orbs in the cube were a byproduct from the refineries. Each orb was full of solid waste skimmed off from low grade energon during processing. Once upon a pre-war time, somebody had gotten the bright idea to package the waste particulates into tiny spheres to sell to the Iaconian Towers as a tangy additive for their high-class energon. Adding the cocktail bubbles made drinks effervescent during dissolving. Dissolving the waste back into itself lowered the grade of energon, but the taste had been novel for the Towers nobles.

The orb in Rumble’s hand barely had enough remnant energon in it to make swallowing worth the effort. Astrotrain still lurched forward on his knees to meet the Cassette’s hand, mouth open. The acidic dregs of what oral fluid he hadn’t burnt off flooded his mouth. The small mech paused, hand out of reach and optics narrow until Astrotrain gave a needy whine, and only then did he graciously deign to push the palm-sized sphere past the shuttle-train’s lips.

Which quivered as they closed around his fingers. He just -- fuel. Primus alive, _fuel_. The bubble burst between his teeth, and Astrotrain’s optics dimmed as the taste of energon coated his tongue. The acid in his mouth immediately started breaking down the particulates. They had nearly no energy, and what energon clung to the grains was the poorest grade possible. Gritty and almost worthless, their taste still made the wings on his back shudder slightly as his tongue rasped the grains over the chemical receptors on the roof of his mouth. Energon filled his senses for a brief, lovely second. 

When his oral fluid leeched the last of that wonderful taste from the grit, he gulped down the paltry mouthful.

It took a moment before he could manage to lift his head again, having ducked his chin down to ride out the pain of that bare sip of energy hitting his tank. It felt like his system seized up in one prolonged spasm, and he had to concentrate on regulating his fans as pain wracked him. His tank loosened from its tight clench in preparation for more fuel, which sent hard pangs of pain through him, but he prayed he’d be granted the fuel it craved.

His optics lit a hopeful, clear red when he looked back to Rumble, and he opened his mouth in a baby bird gape. Feed him more?

The Cassette had returned to Frenzy’s side, however. “Not so big now,” he mocked when Astrotrain tried the needy whine a second time. He knelt by his twin’s shoulder and nodded toward Astrotrain. “We could take him.”

Frenzy spread his legs where he sat, back against the cube and feet open toward the train. When he’d gotten comfortable, he tilted his head back to grin up at his brother. “We could take him before.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we could.”

The pointed digs at his fighting prowess were easy to ignore. Who the frag cared what they said? Around noon of yesterday, Astrotrain’s thoughts had started following a simple flow chart: 

Was he hungry? Yes. Did someone have fuel? No? Ignore him. Yes? Agree with whatever was said in desperate hope of getting some of it. Was he being insulted? No? Then he was lucky. Yes? Didn’t matter. See previous question/answer about mechs with fuel. 

“Sure, okay,” he agreed in that same rasping voice. “More? Please?” The words tasted sour in his mouth. He was past caring. The two Cassetticons had a cube full of cocktail bubbles, and he’d say whatever they wanted. If insulting him kept them happy, let them keep insulting him. He’d had three days to come up with a whole routine of tricks to make mechs happy. Happy mechs entertained by the Astrotrain Show might feed him. 

“You want more?” Frenzy asked, feigning surprise. “Whatcha gonna give us, huh? Ya think these’re free?” He knocked his fist against the cube he sat against. 

“What do you want?” Astrotrain asked on automatic. He owed so many debts that’d he gone far past IOUs in the alphabet. What was shorthand for ‘public fragtoy’? His punishment was part community service, part servicing the community. He’d been reduced to that level by now.

Dull acceptance blossomed through his mind when one of Rumble’s hands slid up Frenzy’s thigh from knee to hip. The small mech’s hips rocked into it, and the twins wore the same lewd expression. Oh. Was that what they wanted? Okay. Fine. Nothing new, there. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d blown someone for breakfast. His tanks got something extra to work on, at least.

Sighing, Astrotrain resettled on his knees to crouch closer to the floor. That brought his face down further for easy access. His voice pancaked flat, all emotion ironed from it. “Just him, or both of you?” 

Normally, he’d find it kind of a turn-on to use his mouth like this. Even being _used_ had its good points. Under better circumstances he wasn’t fond of swallowing, but he didn’t have any sort of moral objection to blowing his fellow Decepticons to buy favors. It was a legitimate bargaining strategy. Interfacing to pay off a debt could be fun, in fact. Interfacing in general was fun, and he’d bartered off his body before, without the inducement of public exposure and starvation. 

On top of that, he liked small mechs. They were made of more attitude than altitude, and he found the cocky personalities hot. Putting his mouth to work on a pair of Cassettes could be a Pit of a good time.

But this _was_ punishment, and they _were_ in public. There was a negative fun quotient involved, here. Even through a fugue of starvation, appalled horror writhed into his tanks like a cold, slimy worm. Rumble was groping Frenzy right out in the open! 

Astrotrain darted quick, flustered glances at the rest of the bridge shift. For Primus’ sake, Soundwave was sitting at the communications station not far away like some kind of authoritarian cockblock. Even if he somehow mustered the energy for enthusiasm, Astrotrain didn’t have the gall to frag one of the carrier mech’s Cassettes in front of him. Yet they had no shame, it seemed, and expected him to suck them off right here and now while a superior officer and protective carrier mech -- what, supervised?

This booty call may be recorded for quality assurance. No pressure or anything, Astrotrain.

“Nah, not me. Just him,” Rumble said, hand closing over the protected plane of armor between Frenzy’s legs. Both Cassette’s wore nasty smirks. They’d seen whom Astrotrain kept nervously glancing at. Instead of being embarrassed, the two small Decepticons appeared to relish their carrier’s presence, and the occasional amused look they got from the rest of the crew made it better yet. “You can have as many of these,” Rumble patted the cube full of cocktail bubbles, “as you want. All of ‘em. You just gotta **get** them.” 

The larger mech gave the room another look, unable to meet anyone’s optics. Because of course everyone was staring, now. Everyone had heard the cackling glee in Rumble’s voice, even if they hadn’t paid attention to Frenzy’s manic laugh. “…yeah,” the triple-changer agreed. What choice did he have? His tanks were full of nervous shame, but he couldn’t run off that. So he hunkered closer to the floor and nodded. “Yeah, okay. How d’you want me to get them?”

His thoughts went to blowjobs, which weren’t so bad a price. The way Rumble was talking knotted his tubes, however. Recent memory reminded him that maybe they wanted something else. Maybe they wanted him to worship their tiny feet with tongue and lips. Maybe they wanted him to bow down and stroke their egos by praising them. 

Blowjobs were easy. Everything else gouged a hunk from Astrotrain’s battered pride.

The two mechs rearranged themselves a bit so that Rumble could reach around Frenzy’s waist to continue groping. His hand bent, two fingers kinking up to press down in a very specific spot, and Frenzy made a humming noise as the access hatch over his valve irised open. Fingers delicately circled it, splitting apart to scrape over the retracted armor plating for no better reason than to vibrate it against vulnerable, sensor-rich raw circuitry protected underneath. In response, the plush black lining packed close to the surface began to move. Multicolored traceries of light started to shoot flashes of blue and green across the sensor webs as Frenzy’s interface equipment came online, making the lining more sensitive to each stroking pass by the two fingers pinching gently at the folds. The soft thump of a hydraulic system started, pumping conductive fluid and coolant into the double-walled, elastic lining. 

Rumble turned his head and whispered something in his twin’s audio that had the other Cassetticon sighing. Frenzy’s hips moved, languid shifts from side to side that gradually settled into a slow circle. Up and to the right, and Rumble’s fingers slid out in a rilling _shiiing_ across the rim. Down and left, and those fingers lifted to plunge at an angle into the valve. Blue light reflected off Rumble’s knuckles, moving glints of light that burnt a muted purple as the sensor webs inside Frenzy separated to let fluid move. The bunched-up lining plumped noticeably with each thrusting circle of hips and hand. 

Rumble teased the lining. The folds inflated from a silky, empty crumple into smooth, rubbery walls expanding as Frenzy’s valve came fully online. Black became a transparent purple-green under the excited lights as a third finger curled into the snug pressure, and the first spark of white charge lit. It dripped over the rim as a circuit discharged through the conductive fluid now filling the lining. 

Rumble smiled and stopped teasing to give a strong _push_ , fingers wriggling. Frenzy’s hips jerked, and he threw his head back to clunk against his twin’s shoulder. Rumble’s smile turned as wicked as the way his fingers withdrew to pluck at the rim, strumming the thin metal until Frenzy buried his teeth in his lower lip to stop a staccato cry. A flip of the wrist, and Rumble’s fingers plunged back in with a corkscrew motion that massaged the valve lining in strong, stirring pushes. In and out, fingers scissoring apart to stretch the walls or crooking to rub over the green nubs of sensor nodes.

The lining gave, inflating it up into his twin’s body like an accordion pulling open, and the thump of interfacing equipment priming for use got louder. The glowing sensor network expanded inward with the lining, activating interfacing subroutines as they came into contact with other internal structures. Astrotrain couldn’t see the lining itself expand, but he could see the Cassette’s body began to change as internal systems transformed to allow the expansion. The plating between Frenzy’s pelvic span and chest frame shifted, pulling apart to allow the middle to telescope upward. Of course. The Cassetticons mass-shifted heavily as well; their internal systems had to have the ability to expand and collapse as much as Astrotrain’s fuel tank did. Frenzy’s interface equipment compacted small, but it could expand a _lot_ given the opportunity.

A mech could only take a spike the girth of his aperture hatch, but valves were far larger and more flexible on the inside. The further the sensor network unfurled, the less sensitive the lining became as the individual pressure nodes spread apart. That’s why mechs with stubby, fat spikes were the best lovers -- and mechs with talented fingers. Rumble traced the purple light of a network wire until he found the attached node, and he pinched the rubbery lining hard, rolling it between the friction pads of his fingers. Frenzy’s thighs snapped closed around his hand, trapping it in place. Still biting his lip, Frenzy blew air out in a rush and rocked his hips against the fingers presumably playing merry havoc inside him.

Astrotrain wouldn’t fit in there no matter which way Frenzy’s valve stretched, but apparently he wasn’t being called on for that service. Or the service he’d assumed he’d be rendering. The triplechanger’s jaw worked in disbelief as Rumble reached into the open cube with his free hand. He grabbed a cocktail bubble and looked down at the thighs holding his hand in place. Another whisper, and Frenzy let his lower lip slide out from under his teeth. Hips hitching slightly over the ground, the Cassetticon opened his legs again. 

Rumble licked the bubble, optics meeting the hungry shuttle-train’s in a taunt. Astrotrain’s tongue moved, licking his teeth in unconscious mimicry as the Cassette took his time getting the sphere good and wet. Oral fluid made it reflective and shiny by the time the short mech decided he was done. Fingers still holding his twin’s valve open, he bent down and blew a hot stream of air over it. Lights flashed, purple and green, and another white flicker charge dripped in a half-visible dribble from the flexing interior. It evaporated in a crackle of electricity. 

Rumble glanced up at Astrotrain, smirked, and dropped his hand to press the orb to the rim. His hand flattened, and instead of trying to force the ball in, his palm rolled it around the outside, crushing the rubbery lining that bulged past the rim. Frenzy’s visor brightened, and his hip joints tensed. A tremor shook him every time the ball rolled over the most prominent exterior node. One hand braced on the floor, but the other wound up under his twin’s arm to clutch the shoulder putting a building pressure behind the small orb. It slipped across the opening of his valve, circled, and gathered static charge in shimmers only visible on scanners. His hips bucked once before he controlled himself, but Rumble’s free hand took advantage of his tension to yank his legs apart further. 

Astrotrain craned his neck despite himself, trying to see past Rumble’s hand as it guided the orb to the lip of the valve. The bubble glittered a hundred shades of red as a slick white flare of charge dripped out around it. Frenzy vented deeply. Rumble bent to nibble his neck as the bubble sank into the center of the engorged valve lining. It sank in, then popped back out as Frenzy kicked a leg, involuntarily pushing back against the too-large sphere. Rumble rolled it over the rim sensors before pushing in once more. A third push, a fourth, and the glowing sheen of charge streaked the clear surface of the orb. 

The Cassette’s feet were flexed rigid, heels set against the floor as if to brace him by the time Rumble relented and gave him a break. He wore a grimace of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, and Rumble chuckled. The sphere rubbed back and forth over the valve, pulling the lining with it and compressing sensors inside. The excited circuitry under the smooth lining clenched in waves of bluish-purple light, and a slow trickle of translucent white charge followed the creep of lubricant down from deep inside.

Frenzy’s visor was the murky crimson of lust, but he could still see the way Astrotrain’s tongue came out to lick his lips, watching the charge drip. “See something you like?”

Caught, Astrotrain averted his gaze and tried to stop his mouth from watering. Acidic oral fluid kept building up the longer he watched this. He just -- he wanted this, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He was a prisoner, helpless and used, for frag's sake. 

...but. He still wanted it.

“You ready?” Rumble asked, husky and intentionally loud enough for Astrotrain to hear. The triplechanger’s optics involuntarily returned to the show, and Rumble gave him a cocky grin. His twin tensed, visor shutting off for a moment before he grabbed Rumble’s arm and _pulled_. No more games. 

The bubble deformed slightly as it was forced against the hard rim, and Frenzy’s vocalizer spat static as a stream of sensor-wailing ecstasy plowed him over. From the looks of him, the feedback from crimped nodes nearly hurt, but this time Rumble didn't back off. The outer casing of the orb was just soft enough to fit. Rumble pushed hard, waited until the shaking tension in his twin’s frame reached a certain point, and gave a sharp _twist_. 

It popped in.

“ **There** we go.”

“Ah.” Frenzy vented out forcefully, and his fingers relaxed from clawing at the floor. Rumble grinned and picked up the next bubble.

Astrotrain glanced around the bridge uneasily, but nobody paid attention to the two Cassetticons teasing him and each other. Everyone had work to do, and they were used to the background noise of someone tormenting the prisoner by now. Although he would have thought this would draw attention. It should have been drawing a crowd. It was kind of a hot deal. An erotic show in miniature, and he got the front row seat. The audience participation seat. The place he enjoyed being in, most of the time.

He really wished he could stop that train of thought, because now all he could think of being part of the show. Bending down and lapping the charge from where it leaked until Frenzy's valve glistened with his oral fluid and washed waves of white charge in sporatic spurts following his tongue. Or he could take both small mechs at once, taking control of the show with Cassette-sized finger puppets. Ohh, he could just imagine their valves tight on his fingertips!

But his wrists were cuffed behind his back. This just wasn’t fair. His involvement in this act was to watch and wait for his cue.

Heat poured through him anyway, and Astrotrain had to throttle back his fans. He shouldn’t be heating up like this!

Whether or not he _should_ want it, anticipation tasted bitter and acidic in his mouth because he _did_.

Rumble’s fingers circled the open hatch, index finger curling into the apeture to gather lubricant. It spread over the black lining and turned it a wet, glimmering silver as white charge built. The cocktail bubbles slid in it, picked it up, and rolled the charge from node to node like a slow conductor. Lazy lightning, crawling flashes of white, spread in the lubricant. Every orb Rumble palmed aroused Frenzy more. Slick and hot, Astrotrain could smell him from here. 

His tanks twisted at the hint of energy held just out of reach, and the shuttle-train scowled to stop himself from licking his lips again when Rumble deliberately wiped his hand off against Frenzy’s inner thigh. A transparent wash of white light flickered down the messy path, charge conducting through the fluid for a bare instant. Long enough to make the stale air reek of ozone, the air under a thunderstorm.

This time it was Astrotrain who had to bite his lip. All that fuel, sh-tupping in thick pops up into Frenzy. Guhh. 

Lubricant greased the valve lining, easing the orbs in. It was a tight fit, however. Rumble had to push hard, fingers massaging the rim and palm working the balls in an increasingly solid rhythm until they popped in. Muffled _thup-thup-thup_ s accompanied each sphere pumping in and out until the heavy sucking _POP_ shoved it past the tight rim. 

Each one sent a jarring spasm of pure sensation up Frenzy’s body. The Cassetticon’s legs drew up further with every _pop_ until only the tips of his feet rested on the floor. Sparks of charge began to spurt out around the bubbles as they went in, splashing Frenzy’s thighs in sizzling drips that faded away before they hit the floor.

Visor offline, the more volatile Cassette leaned back against the cube and vented deeply. His throat tensed and relaxed, tubes and cables moving to the tempo Rumble set stuffing his valve. Astrotrain panted in time. His fans changed from high to low in whirring undertone to the sounds of Frenzy's pleasure. The way Rumble was cramming the bubbles in, now, it was only a matter of time before --

A wet _shplurt_ announced a bubble bursting. “Whoa!” Rumble started, grinning, but he recoiled in surprise when the prisoner in front of them surged forward. Frenzy kicked the shuttle-train in the face out of shock.

Astrotrain didn’t notice or care. Since his wrists were bound behind his back, he dove face-first for the tiny cascade of red grit pouring to the floor. A small foot shoved at the top of his helm, both Cassettes yelped indignantly, and it didn’t register. He could see nothing but the bits of almost-energon pattering to the floor and sticking to Frenzy's thighs as the little mech struggled. His helm vent dented as Rumble punched him, but he pushed the smaller Decepticon aside to lick at the floor again and again. 

He grunted when another punch set his helm to ringing, but he just kept licking, burrowing his face into the floor like he could get the grit out of a seam in the metal by sheer perseverance. His tongue smeared red across the floor, leaving it tasting like fuel, and he couldn’t stop licking it. He couldn’t. His tanks gurgled, and his fuel processing plant whined in vain hope that the droplet of taste meant he’d be sending more fuel down soon. 

Nudging his nose under Frenzy’s leg, he chased the glints of red and lapped up the bubble’s outer casing. He’d have been ashamed of the sounds he made, but he didn’t actually hear himself. All his attention was focused on searching for escaped grit, not the low grunts he gave every time he found and licked up another miniscule chunk. The strained groan while trying to stick his tongue under Frenzy’s aft? Didn’t hear it. He didn’t even hear the bridge crew start laughing at him.

When he was finally satisfied he’d gotten it all, reality slammed back into him the way windshields smashed bugs. Utterly mortified, he looked up and saw everybody above him. Literally everyone on the bridge crew. With his chest and mouth flat to the floor, even the Cassetticons were above optic-level to him right now. 

And they were laughing. Every single Decepticon in the room had turned to watch him make an idiot of himself rootling about on the floor almost under Frenzy. He’d gone whole hog after one single cocktail bubble.

Across the bridge, Soundwave still sat at his station. However, the officer turned a bit when the prostrate mech flicked a look toward him, and the dancing red light of his visor betrayed laughter. Okay, he'd officially hit rock bottom. Even _Soundwave_ was laughing at him.

Astrotrain pulled his tongue back into his mouth, feeling stupider than he ever had in his life, and he swallowed a large lump of something very hard and horrible. It might have been broken pride wrapped in a sickly sweet coating of shame. Yeah, he'd hit bottom. There was desperation, and then there was whatever it was he'd just done. 

His tanks grumbled, and he swallowed a fresh rush of oral fluid. Panic spread over his face as he realized that -- Primus have mercy. He'd do it again. He had to stop himself from giving the floor a last lick, in fact. 

Could he just shrivel up and die now?

"What, you hungry?" Thrust cat-called over the laughter. "Think he wants another one, Rumble."

"No frag! I think I got that." The Cassette straightened after prying himself out from under Astrotrain's helm. The vent he'd been punching had pinned him down. "Fragging Pit, slagger! Back off!"

Frenzy's angry look had disappeared into an oddly introspective expression. "He can stay..."

Both shuttle-train and Cassette looked downward, surprised, and a wave of intense humiliation swept through Astrotrain from helm to feet. Positioned as he was, face to the floor, every pant from laboring, starved system blew straight between Frenzy's spread legs. Bemused, Rumble reached down and ran a curious finger around the plush lining just as Astrotrain's fans kicked into a higher gear.

Frenzy’s back struts curved in one long ripple from aft to neck, clunking his head into the cube behind him. A high-pitched groan came out under the audible thrum of aroused interfacing equipment. "Ohhh, yeah. He can stay there all day." Excited circuits fired green traceries from node to node in his valve. A slippery wash of electric charge coated Rumble's exploring finger. "All **day**."

The much larger Decepticon cringed, internals tying into knots that had nothing to do with hunger. That did explain why the kicking had abruptly stopped midway through his desperate slurping. Like the laughter, he hadn't even noticed.

He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. Whatever Rumble said to his twin was lost in the renewed laughter at Frenzy's obvious enjoyment, and Astrotrain flinched back. Everyone laughed harder, and he put his head down in shame even as he heaved back up onto his knees. By now he swore even the computer screens were laughing at him. He intended to go hide behind the command chair like the used fragrag he felt like until humiliation stopped eating him alive. 

"Nuh-uh," cut off that retreat, and the triplechanger's face scrunched in a pre-emptive flinch. "You stay."

He shot a self-conscious look at the laughing bridge crew. Most of them were drifting back to their duties, but he could still feel their optics mocking him. "But..."

Rumble hoisted another cocktail bubble. "You want this?"

"Please," and Astrotrain burned even hotter when he realized it'd rushed out of his vocalizer without a thought. 

The Cassette's free hand pointed between his twin's legs. Neither mech said anything, but their cruel smirks spoke for them.

Knots. His throat intakes choked on them. Every tube he had twined into a knot and strangled him. Thrashing helpless protest on the inside, Astrotrain forced his chest back to the floor and looked at the Cassetticons for approval. 

Rumble's fingers snapped, pointing imperiously. Not close enough for his satisfaction. 

Astrotrain swallowed another painful chunk of pride and inched forward to slide his mouth close to that slick, ready valve. The lining flexed every time he breathed out. Even when he tried holding his vents, he soon became too distracted to keep his fans from spinning on.

Because Rumble went back to stuffing his twin's valve full of cocktail bubbles. Right in front of him. This was torture. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to watch those sips of energy press slowly out of sight, now the stinging _scent_ of it filled his receptors. His optics glazed over. The bland smell of machine lubricant formed a smooth base scent that made the tang of energon stand out more. 

Nestled between Frenzy's thighs, nose only a meter from his valve, Astrotrain shut off his optics and moaned softly. The small space he breathed in reeked of sex and fuel, and his tanks cramped as the smell grew stronger with each orb Rumble pushed in. Charge dripped out, bright and evaporating before it hit the floor, and Astrotrain’s mouth fell open to draw deep vents in because...oh. Oh, he wanted. He could almost taste the energon. The wasted charge sizzled out through the lubricant, and that hurt to watch. He wanted _so much_ to just stick his tongue out and lap that slick, powder-coated valve. The burst bubble had left red grit on the upper half of Frenzy's rim, and white charge wetted it in a constant shimmer over the silver metal and black lining.

Primus! The whole blasted Decepticon army could show up and play paparazzi -- he didn't care! Just let him get at that energy! Half fuel, half electric charge, and everything he fragging wanted.

Rumble chortled at the feeble little noises of involuntary need. "Think he wants something," he said to his twin.

Frenzy opened his legs further and lifted his hips to offer his valve. "Think I -- think **I** want something. More!" he demanded as he pulled on Rumble's shoulder.

One hand forcing another sphere in, Rumble slid his other arm around his twin's waist to pat his middle. Activated by active interfacing protocols, that was all it took for the thickest plating to finish sliding aside. The internal mass-shift allowed vital systems to compress when the Cassetticons transformed, but Frenzy’s valve had begun to _expand_. "Starting to feel it?"

"Not feeling **enough**! Fill me up, ya slagger!" A quick _thupPOP!_ got a grunt from him, but Frenzy kept pulling. "More. Now."

Astrotrain made another plaintive sound as Rumble started cramming the cocktail bubbles in earnest. "Guys...please?"

"Wait your turn," Rumble told him, highly amused. The triplechanger subsided, lips parted in uncontrollable need. 

White charge and slick lubricant slid out around the finger the Cassette circled under the current ball. Bubbles squeaked over each other as they were pushed and turned, forcing them through the tight valve rim. Each new orb bumped the others already inside further up, further out, closer together. A hollow _tunk_ announced a second burst bubble somewhere up inside, and the squeaking acquired a grainy, grinding undertone as the spheres packed in. A thread of red-tinged lube leaked out between Rumble’s fingers.

Whining, panting, Astrotrain couldn't stop himself. He managed to stay in place, although his knees drew up a tad and made his aft bob like a cyberhound getting a treat. His tongue darted out and licked at the grit, knocking Rumble's hand aside.

The smaller Decepticon started to say something, but Frenzy’s throaty sigh cut him off. He glanced down at his twin, who seemed lost in heady pleasure. The tongue between Frenzy’s legs was so large that even cleaning just the floor beneath his valve resulted in both thighs smearing with lubricant and oral fluid as Astrotrain lapped. Electricity crackled across the shuttle-train’s tongue, and Astrotrain made a soft, broken noise in response. One broad, wet lick dared to drag right across that eager valve, and Frenzy seized up as primed sensor nodes sang pleasure through him. 

Shame soaked him so thoroughly that Astrotrain couldn’t even look up at the two Cassettes, but neither could he stop. He lapped up the bits energon byproduct and crunched the tiny pieces between his teeth when he closed his mouth. An acidic flood of oral fluid drooled out of the corner of his mouth before he could swallow, and another flash of humiliation went burning from wingtip to backstruts. Frag his life. All this for almost nothing. The taste of energy and nothing more.

“Here.” Rumble shoved an orb at him. “Slick it up.”

Aw, come on. Really? He wasn’t sure he had the willpower for this! “C’mon, don’t make me -- “

Shrugging, the Cassette tossed it over his shoulder to bounce off through the bridge. Ramjet stepped on it without even noticing and tracked a splotch of red back to his duty station, and Astrotrain’s tanks shrieked pain and hunger inside him for the waste.

“Alright! Alright, I’ll do it! Just don’t throw anymore away!” He should have felt ashamed of how quickly he caved, but he’d spent the past three days begging for enough fuel to stay conscious. Astrotrain would grovel to Rumble and _like_ it, slaggit! “I’ll do it,” he whispered, dropping his voice. Frenzy snorted, so he added a humble, “Please?”

When the next cocktail bubble was taken out and held before him, he hated how grateful he felt. He bundled the shame and sick gratitude away to deal with later, along with every other demeaning act he’d subjected himself to during this ordeal. Instead of sneering, he meekly stuck out his tongue again, laving it over the bubble until excess oral fluid dripped from Rumble’s hand. He trembled the whole while. The heat and near-taste of energy tormented him. He wanted so badly to just _take_ the whole cube. Sure his wrists were cuffed behind his back, but he could still shove his face into it! He could scarf down the bubbles in two mouthfuls before the piddling small Cassettes stopped him. What could they do? They weren’t even tall enough to reach his knee.

He knew better. Even without Soundwave backing them up, they had free rein to do whatever they wanted to him. His current status was ‘Prisoner: Abuse at Will.’ Nobody was inclined to give him a break, considering that they’d all been put on short rations because of his theft. Anytime anyone felt the least bit undercharged, they had Lord Megatron's blanket permission to punish him how they saw fit for the pinch.

Yesterday, Thundercracker -- calm, collected, fairly nice mech _Thundercracker_ \-- had taken a six-tailed electrowhip to him. Turned to the highest setting, it'd cut through his armor like a blade through human skin. With his body drained and already hurting everywhere, that had hurt even more than one might expect. When dents felt like pits melted straight through into his circuitry, then split armor felt like lines of fire scored across his entire sensor network. 

Astrotrain had screamed in shocked agony under the first few lashes and frantically tried to get away after that. He’d cried out, apologized, even outright begged the Seeker to stop, all while scurrying about the bridge on his knees. Ignoring his attempts to appease him, Thundercracker had relentlessly followed him around despite Astrotrain putting chairs and people between them at every opportunity. He’d tried hiding under a console, but the whip had struck any part of him that couldn’t fit, which was most of him. Starscream had grabbed the end of the chain-leash to hold him in place for a dozen lashes while Astrotrain pleaded and turned in futile circles trying to evade Thundercracker’s anger. 

Scavenger had finally taken pity on him once the game had gotten old and the sniveling got on his gestaltmates’ nerves. His cheerful, “Here, boy!” and patted thigh had broken through even Thundercracker’s black mood, and seeing Astrotrain bolt over to cower practically in the Constructicon’s lap had gotten the Seeker to grudgingly put the electrowhip down. Aching inside and more than sore on the outside, too, Astrotrain had been beyond caring that the Decepticons’ resident pushover had saved his aft from further pain. He'd just been piteously grateful somebody had intervened.

So, yeah. The Cassetticons could do whatever scrap they wanted to him, and his best bet of escaping with plating -- if not dignity -- intact was to play along. 

Bubble after bubble was held out, and Astrotrain obediently licked them until they were slippery enough to schlorp up inside Frenzy. Who moaned in time with Rumble's kneading fingers, vents catching in panting hiccups when his twin cupped an orb and took his time rolling it in a slow grind around the rim of his valve. Every few bubbles when the orbs threatened to push back out, Rumble slipped the tips of his first two fingers into the smooth, slick black lining and started massaging.

"Ahh. Ah! Ahh." Frenzy's hips churned, bucking whenever those fingers pressed down on a tender node. Blue and green shot through the rubbery lining, closely followed by hot drizzles of white-charged lubricant. "Oh. Again! Right therrrrreeohhh."

Coolant and conductive fluid pumped in faster, inflating the lining taut, and his valve opening tightened as the delicious pleasure built toward overload -- and Rumble stopped.

Frenzy's visor went blood-dark. "Fr-fragger."

His twin chuckled unkindly. "And you love it." His fingers slipped from the tight grip of the lining, giving a last lingering push on a rim node and sending a blitz of charge spitting out. Frenzy's thighs vibrating on the very rusted _edge_ \-- "Not ye~et."

White electricity zapped between valve and fingers as they separated. Frenzy kicked, bit his lip hard, and screamed in frustration behind it.

Bewildered, Astrotrain just stared. 

"Helloooo?" Rumble called, holding up a cocktail bubble. "Cybertron to moron! Focus. You've got one job. Think ya got enough brains working to do it?"

"Uh..." Right, he officially didn't know what was going on. But the shuttle-train swallowed and opened his mouth to continue licking. Because what else could he do? 

Meanwhile, Frenzy concentrated on breathing. Vents strong and hot, he clutched his twin and moved his hips into each teasing pump as Rumble went back to thrusting the orbs in deeper and deeper until they popped inside. Spheres bulged out of Frenzy’s valve as it flexed around them. Their coating was pliable, the grit inside able to deform to a certain extent, but they were crammed in by now. Yet Rumble kept pushing.

And suddenly the expanders gave. 

Armor plating rearranged, half-transformed already but now clicking aside entirely as interface systems keyed in overrides. Frenzy’s pelvic span only angled a bit, but his waist distended in a fast rush of metal telescoping apart. The overlapping parts slid apart to create a fat bulge, and a series of high squeaks came from inside as the compacted cocktail bubbles shifted around to fill the new space.

Astrotrain knew what that kind of expansion felt like, and Frenzy's keening wail rode the edge of pain. "Eeee **yaaAH!** " 

It wasn't quite pain. It sort of hurt, but not really. He'd never tried, well, stuffing himself like this. Gorging was what had gotten him into this situation to begin with, but this wasn't the same. He sort of wanted to try it now? It probably felt different than an overfull tank, but Astrotrain's throat worked as he imagined just what being filled like _that_ would feel like.

Pressure. Vulnerability. A bloated sensation that'd jiggle about with every movement. The feeling that he'd gush at any moment. Whole exposed panels of himself that were normally concealed under protective armor but could no longer be hidden. They were open and hypersensitive to even blowing air.

Without thinking, Astrotrain exhaled hard, and Frenzy melted. A small, dopey smile crossed the Cassette’s face.

Astrotrain swallowed hard, burning with more than embarrassment now. He had to throttle his fans back, but that wouldn’t work for very long. His temperature gauge immediately skyrocketed toward redline as something worse than shame heated him. 

He really, really wished he didn't find this as hot as he did all of a sudden, because everybody on the bridge was staring at them again. Uncomfortable squirming only made it more obvious how curious he was. Whenever his optics glanced anywhere else, they zeroed right back in on the valve clenching hungrily in front of him.

"There we go," Rumble said, pleased, and he rubbed the thin metal sheets tented over the top of his twin's valve. "Took you long enough." His hand cupped over the bulge and squeezed. That got a jerk and a grunt as orbs jostled about inside. 

"Not my fault you're slow," Frenzy snapped back. One deep inhale, and the small Decepticon forced his shoulders down and hip joints to relax as much as they were able.

“You good?”

He cycled air, deep and slow, before nodding decisively. “I can take more.”

“That’s what **Starscream** said.”

“Aw, shove it ge **ear!** \-- “ Frenzy’s vocalizer glitched mid-insult as Rumble did exactly that, popping a dry orb up his valve in one hard push. At this point, the lining was so slippery with charge and lubricant that, even dry, it slid in with a sopping _squelch_.

Charge, translucent white, spurted out as electromagnetic energy coalesced in the thin lubricant. Rumble rolled the next bubble in the glowing liquid and held it out mockingly to the shuttle-train staring in starvation-dumb need at them. “Want some?”

Astrotrain couldn’t get a coherent word out through his fuel gauge’s creeling siren. The thing wasn’t content with his tanks twisting into pretzels inside him, oh no. It filled his HUD with blaring alerts telling him just how close he was to statis lock. Like he didn’t know that slag already?

So he whimpered a vaguely affirmative sound and stuck out his tongue to lick desperately at the dripping orb. It tasted like blasted Primus Himself had shoved Astrotrain down between His legs, he was so fragging starved. Low-power charge from aroused interfacing equipment had far more flavor than the gritty waste particulates did, and he sucked his lower lip in to lick repeatedly for the last of the taste when Rumble turned back to shoving spheres into Frenzy. He couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t fixated on Frenzy’s reactions anymore. 

The Cassette took the bubbles, tensing and releasing in quick succession, thighs trembling more and more violently as the first five popped in. Those filled up the new available space. Then Rumble went back to teasing him open and tightening him up in turn, keeping him riding the edge of overload.

The top of Frenzy’s valve couldn’t expand out further. The built-in expanders had slid apart as much as they were able, and now the joins strained as pressure inside mounted. The cushioning layer of fluid pressed out of the valve’s lining. That crushed the circuitry inside the rubbery material against internal systems. Frenzy began to pant in erratic gasps that sounded close to small cries as every twitch of normal functions mainlined directly into his sensor network.

Even with Rumble’s fingers rubbing and pushing, his valve couldn’t take any more. He was just so _full_. Every beat of his fuel pump was visible as Frenzy’s body shuddered, hips thrusting up and lips parted as if that would help draw in cooler air for his overtaxed body. His fingers dug into his twin’s arm and shoulder, and Rumble seemed to be restraining as much as supporting him.

Astrotrain could use some of that support, right about now. For once, he was thankful that he’d been bound. The cuffs on his wrists were the only thing keeping his hands from between his own slagging legs. While he couldn’t imagine being more humiliated than he felt right this moment, he was certain new depths could be reached if he had his hands free. His thighs already squeezed together in time with Frenzy’s bucking, and he couldn’t stop himself from sliding them together to try and ease the throbbing, rhythmic pings coming from his own valve. That bobbed his raised aft in an incredibly mortifying little dance, but throw him out an airlock if he cared. He had ever seen anything so stupidly, incredibly, unexpectedly _hot_.

Give him one free hand, and he’d be riding it like the Astrotrain Express Line. Open to the public. He didn’t care. He’d be embarrassed when he reached the end of the tracks and got off the rails. _Nnnngh_. 

He pulled in huge gulps of air that reeked of energy. Fuel, hot and tangy, and the smooth almost-taste of lubricant so heavily laden with charge he had to clench his teeth to keep his tongue inside his rusted mouth. Dear holy Primus, _please_. Rumble had said -- not like a promise or anything -- but Rumble had _said_ that he could have the slagging cocktail bubbles if he could get them, and all the bubbles were currently up inside a tight, hot little valve. In fact, there was one bulging right in the aperture, right on the verge of popping past the rim.

Rumble circled that rim gently, then parted his fingers to frame it. He looked at Astrotrain and smiled. It was not a nice smile. It held all the gloating self-satisfaction in the world. “Your turn.”

The mumble that escaped may have been, “Thank you, Primus!” but Astrotrain’s mouth plowed into Frenzy’s valve too fast for the words to be understandable.

On the other hand, Frenzy’s, “Fragging **_Pit!_** ” came out loud and clear. Shortly after, however, he degenerated into squeals and short, grunted moans mirrored by thick lapping noises. Anything beyond guttural sounds would have to wait.

Astrotrain wasn’t doing much better, to be honest. The blasted Cassetticon was so tiny that he had to angle his helm to the side to get his mouth into place, nose pinning one thigh down and chin wedged under the other. But ohhhh. Oh, yeah. This was what he’d be waiting for! 

He stabbed the tip of his tongue directly into that tense little hole, and system-charged, energon-laced grit burst into his mouth. His fuel processing plant roared into operation, and full system activity punched him in the gut. Every tank rang empty, and the trickle of fuel hit in a hammer-blow that felt too _good_ to be pain.

He groaned into Frenzy’s valve as his own valve decided now would be a great time to go from ‘interested’ to ‘now, please.’ Every clench around the tip of his tongue triggered a similar clench from circuitry that had already been aching. Astrotrain rubbed his thighs together and closed his lips around Frenzy’s whole pelvic span to suck greedily. 

“ **Smelt meee!** ” The Cassette curled forward around the head between his legs, fist pounding in blind reaction as powerful suction pulled at his valve: bubbles, sensor nodes, lining, and all.

Astrotrain whimpered and swallowed over and over again, licking and sucking and oh Primus this was good, this was so good. He could do this forever. He wanted to never stop. He wanted to lay here and lap the charged lubricant from Frenzy’s valve, roll it around his mouth, and suck bubble after bubble out in heady bursts of energy that coated his chemical receptors in something he could only call pleasure. 

Frenzy apparently saw Primus, because he seemed intent on talking to Him. “Aaagh, oh, yeah, oh yeah, yes, **Primus!** Ohaaaah ah Primus Primus Prim **uuuuus!** ” As fast as it’d expanded, the bulge above his pelvic span collapsed. The pressure released, metal panels telescoping back over each other, and near-pain shot straight into the sheer quaking _relief_ as pleasure slammed to the forefront of every previously-conflicted sensor node.

The triplechanger slurping between his legs shifted suddenly, nose coming down to press firmly on the vulnerable, exposed area, and Frenzy gave a wild _shriek_ as six bubbles popped out of him one right after another. No pause in between, no time to recover, and the top of his valve crushed down as the expanders gave way abruptly. Hypersensitive nodes and their wide-spread circuitry crimped back into close proximity, firing off each other in a flurry of feedback that gushed white charge out of his valve.

Astrotrain drank it out of him, moaning in need.

The thighs clamped around his helm went stiff, circuit breakers tripped in a cascade of electricity, and Frenzy’s vocalizer shorted out as overload crashed his processor. A garbled cry of static got out, and the wide red visor went black.

The tongue up his valve didn’t relent, and the Cassette’s body kept twitching even though his mind was off floating on Luna-1. Astrotrain just took advantage of the way overload relaxed the lining to coax another slippery orb into reach.

He’d have been perfectly happy to lay there, on his knees with his chest to the floor, and lick Frenzy back online and through another overload. He really would have. The taste alone would have kept him lapping away even after the Cassette’s valve finally emptied.

However, there was the matter of the spectators. “Hey Mikey,” a canned, nasal voice said above him, and Astrotrain froze. Slowly, optics horrified and lubricant on his lips, he looked up. “He likes it!” Soundwave finished playing over his speakers, and the watching crowd grinned.

He shrank into himself, warm pleasure transmuted instantly into icy horror. Had he really just..? He really had. 

A small hand grabbed his helm. “Get back to work,” Rumble ordered. “We’re not finished with you yet.”

 

**[* * * * *]**

 

_[ **A/N:** For those of you who don’t recognize it, Soundwave plays the tagline from a commercial famous in the ‘70s and ‘80s, for Life cereal. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYEXzx-TINc). Also, this is the first time I gave a serious attempt at writing sticky. Please let me know if it set anyone’s hair on fire, as that was my stated goal._

__


End file.
